Memoirs
by Lady Flick
Summary: ZUTARA. PostSeries. In which Zuko and Katara solve the mystery of Iroh's murder and discover just how twisted the royal family can be. 'I needed people who understood. Everything. Even what remained unsaid.' - Zuko
1. Chapter 1

**disclaimer: **the grass is green, the sky is blue; me no own, so you no sue.

* * *

**MEMOIRS**

by Lady Flick

**

* * *

**

**_prologue_**

'_Good morning, Fire Lord Zuko.'  
That's what they said to me today._

_The maids, I mean._

_I didn't understand.  
What was so good about it?_

_The sun was shining, the skies were clear-_

_And Uncle was dead._

_Yeah. _

_Great _fucking_ morning._

* * *

"I'm glad you were able to come," he greeted, standing from his extravagant throne that was far from comfortable; it was hard on his posterior and put a strain on his back. Usually the throne was not too unbearable, but that morning it was exceptionally so. "I…I appreciate it."

Aang waved a dismissive hand, elegant and childish all the same, the sleeve of his garment rustling quietly. "Don't be silly," he said in a voice much deeper than Zuko remembered, "Of course I came. What're friends for?" A quirky smile followed his words, gray eyes as wide and innocent as ever.

He tried to return the expression, but found that such optimism was beyond him. Instead, the newly crowned Fire Lord sunk back onto his seat. "Right," he murmured, mostly to himself, golden eyes lowering to the gold laden floors of the throne room. In it he could see the reflections of his friends, none of whom were with him when the tragedy hit. He was grateful that they had answered his call on such short notice, when they were busy with their own lives, but seeing them did not ease the pain. At all. Was he being selfish in hoping that being reunited with his old friends would ease the blow of his uncle's passing? Was it even worse that the reunion only prompted an even emptier feeling in the pit of his stomach?

"Zuko…" A hand at his shoulder (when did they approach him?) along with that nurturing voice he had nearly forgotten. He glanced up into her face; the waterbender he spent the earlier years of his life despising. Looking into her eyes betrayed his sorrows and loneliness, she could see it in him - was he so transparent? "It's alright to admit that you're hurting." Apparently so.

He knew she meant her words, knew she was right, but he didn't want to acknowledge that emptiness. He wanted to forget it, he wanted to overlook it and find the silver lining his uncle always seemed to spot. "Hurting?" The Fire Lord asked with mock disbelief, "Uncle wouldn't want me to be sad."

"Doesn't mean you won't be," Sokka countered sagely, peering over at the former prince with eyes that held a different sort of wisdom than his sister's insight.

"Yes it does," Zuko insisted, putting on a brave face as he shrugged away Katara's hand.

"I can tell you're lying." That too-familiar mocking song, a resonance of their adventures together, teased.

He made a face at the earthbender, one she couldn't even see, but said nothing. Toph had always been smug and one to provoke others; though it might have resulted in many qualms in the past, the firebender was suddenly very grateful that she hadn't changed – not one bit. There was a comfort in constants in a time where change is inevitable.

"Zuko?"

Nothing more than a lazy echo down a hall.

All heads turned to the corridor's entrance as the anticipated Fire Lady appeared, looking quite stunning in her scarlet robes. She showed no surprise in seeing the entire bending troop around the Lord, only pausing for a moment before sweeping into the throne room. "Your trips were good, I trust," a casual statement, prompting absolutely no response aside from expected pleasantries.

"A bit long, but otherwise good, yes," Katara politely confirmed.

Mai stood beside the firebender, briefly acknowledging each familiar face with less-than interested glances. "Glad to hear it." She was the very embodiment of culture and class, practiced in the art of polite greetings and demure expressions, but most if not all her words were rehearsed and empty of feeling, "It's so nice of you to stop by."

"Oh, we're not just stopping by," Aang corrected with a jovial smile. "We're staying."

The faintest tic in her brow betrayed her shock, but Mai remained collected and regal. "…Staying." Whether or not she was displeased with the news wasn't apparent, but the tone in her voice suggested that she was not expecting guests to host and would prefer not to have them in her silk, sheet-metal straight, ebony hair.

"Yeah, we're here to stay," the Avatar repeated, "Of course, if it's alright with you, Zuko."

The Fire Lord looked at him in disbelief. The thought of his friends remaining with him when he needed them most, acting as pillars of support when he found himself crumbling beneath the stress and the depression and the hysteria, strengthened Zuko with the vigor he had lost. He met Aang's congenial smile, awed at the Avatar's kind and sincere eyes, and wondered at the monk's endless selflessness. "You don't have to do that," Zuko answered at last, though it was clear he wished them to stay.

It was Toph's sharp voice that finally managed to crack a smile on his face. "Sorry, Sparky, but after everything your crazy family put us through, letting us stay for awhile is the _least_ you could do!"

* * *

_I didn't want them pitying me. That wasn't why I asked them to come.__  
I just wanted to be around people who knew me. Really knew me.  
Knew me as I grew up and matured._

_Mai didn't know me like that, as much as I loved her.__ She knew me on a different level.  
She knew me in childhood, knew me in my innocence and naiveté._

_But I needed people who understood._

_Everything._

_Even what remained unsaid._

* * *

**chapter one

* * *

**

.

.

_I would have liked to say that it was raining or something. That the skies were mourning his death.  
Something poetic and depressing like that. But that's just not me. And besides, it was fucking beautiful outside.  
Was it right to have a funeral in the middle of summer? The peak of the solstice?_

_Damn irony._

_._

_.

* * *

  
_

"How are you feeling?"

He flinched at her intrusion, immediately shutting the book in which he had been writing and slipping it onto a shelf in a most conspicuous manner. The funeral had ended a few hours earlier and the denizens of the Fire Nation court remained in the Great Hall for the reception. It was nothing but an excuse to socialize and gossip, much to the Fire Lord's disgust – those people, the noblemen and ladies, didn't care an ounce of his Uncle. They were respectfully mournful, yes, but truly distressed of their previous leader's demise? Not likely.

Zuko was able to slip away, not in any mood to mingle. The addle-headed upper-class would do more damage to his already crumbling esteem, in fact, simply thinking about them and their ignorance for the gravity of the matter at hand was infuriating. Not even spending time with Mai could assuage the tumultuous thoughts plaguing his mind.

The interloper offered a tilted smile. "Don't worry, I won't read your diary."

"It's a journal," the Fire Lord snapped in defense, much to the waterbender's amusement. He scowled at her grin, standing from the couch. "What're you doing here, anyways? Shouldn't you be out there," and he made an awkward and slightly irate gesture somewhere in the direction of the reception hall, "with the rest of your friends?"

Katara arched a brow, only mildly offended. "Last I checked, they were your friends, too. Did that change over the years?"

"You tell me."

She shrugged and stepped into the study, idly tracing her fingers over the scant few books that lay scattered over the tables. "Well," the bender opened logically, adopting her brother's straightforward tone; "I'm here, aren't I?" Katara paused before a table not too far from the former prince and curiously flipped through the open pages of a particularly large tome.

"Yes, invading my privacy," the firebender groused, trying, and failing, to sound sincerely irritated.

The girl peered up at him from the pages of what she realized was a memoir. "I meant here, in response to your letter," she answered cheekily. Zuko fell into silence, and Katara resumed her perusal. The memoir was handwritten, it seemed, with a patient hand that penned characters with grace and discipline. She couldn't understand the ancient Fire Nation writing and failed to make out the title, but the actual memoir was written in the modern Fire Nation script, a widely accepted form of calligraphy that breached the nations. "Did you know your uncle wrote a—"

"—A biography?" Zuko interjected, voice quiet, weary, "Yeah."

Katara picked up the leather-bound book. "Have you read it, yet?"

"No," the Fire Lord scoffed, feigning disinterest, though he moved nearer, "It's probably all about tea and Pai Sho." Zuko leaned over to get a glimpse at the memoir despite his flippant remark, "He told me it was a journal and that it helped him collect his thoughts and the lessons he's learned through life."

Katara glanced up from the pages and offered him another guarded smile. "He told you to keep a journal, too," she surmised.

Zuko didn't reply, staunchly keeping his gaze on the fragile pages.

Katara handed him the journal, letting the weight drop into his unsuspecting hands, and turned to leave. "Well, I suppose I should head back and make sure Toph and Sokka haven't destroyed the Main Hall," she said in jest as she made her way towards the door.

"Katara—" hesitant and thoughtful, "—goodnight."

She grinned over her shoulder, "Goodnight, Zuko."

After Katara took her leave, the Fire Lord glanced down at the memoir in his grasp and settled comfortably into a large, excessively cushioned chair, reliving his uncle's many interesting stories.

_A fine summer afternoon sitting on the riverbank. The sweet aroma of dew-drop grass and a running stream dull numbness in my feet. We had been walking for hours with little food and even littler water; our determination our only source of fuel. But without air a burning fire will die - the sand is thinning, our time ticking. I sit here, under the shade of a tree, and begin what I hope will be something precious to someone. Prince Zuko sleeps here, face hidden beneath his straw hat. I worry for him. Too much, he insists. But I never say that it is just enough, because he knows not just what being so related to me entails. I have cursed him, the sweet prince with a dark past and a potentially darker future. My never-ending apologies, Prince Zuko; you are so blissfully unaware of what I mean, and should you be lucky, will remain so. One can only hope._

"Here you are," that careless voice startled him from the first written words of his uncle's memoir, and Zuko jumped a bit in his seat, looking up at the doorway to see his soon-to-be Lady enter the library. "You just left me to die in there," she said tiredly, realizing the error of her words a second too late and instantly regretting the pained look that crossed Zuko's face. "Oh, don't be like that, you know I didn't mean it that way," Mai added, attempting to ease the distress in his eyes. He only looked down, onto the book laying open in his hands, and she sighed. "What're you doing in here, anyways?" The woman queried, lifting the tome's cover with a light touch as if to shut the book.

Zuko had ample time to stop her if he so wished.

He didn't.

Mai traced over the gold leaf imprinted title for a moment, wishing she could give him the comfort he desperately needed, "You can read anytime. It's not often the Ambassadors from every precinct and other old rich people from around the world come visit you."

Zuko shook his head, suddenly very annoyed. "They're not here to visit _me_," he snapped, moving the book out of her reach, "They're here because Uncle—"

"He was _old_, Zuko," Mai said with a hint of impatience, "It shouldn't have been too much of a surprise."

Had he not known any better, he would have written Mai off as selfish and insensitive, but he understood the way her mind worked. She didn't like to linger on things that would remain unchanged. It wasn't healthy. But she couldn't grasp the meaning of true sorrow - when had she ever lost someone she irrefutably and genuinely cared about? Someone as dear to her as Uncle was to him?

Her hand covered his and Zuko realized that, of anyone Mai had ever known, _he_ was likely the person she considered herself to be closest to. She drew the book out of his grasp, gingerly placing it on the nearest table. "Come on, let's go back and see if your friends left us anything to eat."

Zuko eyed her, the woman who was meant to be his bride, the woman he would have already proposed to had the tragedy of his uncle's death not come to reality, and nodded, lacing his fingers through hers as she led him out to the public. He was somewhat grateful to her for pulling him away from what could have been a spiraling depression. Reading about the journey he had taken with Iroh could have been one of two things: 1 - mentally satisfying, or 2 - the instigator of the insanity that apparently ran in his family. And the feeling of her hand in his was enough calm him.

Mai had the softest hands.

They entered the Great Hall and stepped into what seemed to be a celebration rather than a funeral reception. Music was playing, people were dancing and laughing, and Zuko was both offended and relieved. How dare people celebrate his uncle's _death_ - but he could hear Iroh's voice in the back of his mind.

'_Death does not mark the end of a journey; it is the beginning of something far greater. When I die, I don't want those I love to be sad for me. Rather, delight in the memories we shared and look forward to the stories I will have to tell upon our next encounter.' _

He smiled as the band struck up a familiar song. "Uncle used to sing this all the time," he mused, golden eyes taking in the scene; Sokka avoiding Toph's stomping feet (that were accurately guessing and second-guessing just where the warrior's toes would step next), Katara chatting up a few Ambassadors as Aang performed what he claimed to be an ancient air nomadic dance. It was a bright scene, happy, just as Iroh would want it to be. Somehow, it put Zuko in a better mood, and he took to humming the too-familiar tune, "It's a long, long way to Ba Sing Se…"

"I don't suppose you want to dance," Mai said with obvious indifference.

Zuko offered a cynical grin. "Do I ever?"

She sighed and took his hand, pulling him out onto the dance floor.

"What are you doing?"

"You should know better than to lie to me, Zuko," the girl said tiredly, "I know you."

For the first time that night, Zuko smiled.

As the night wore on, golden rays outlined the horizon in a strangely appropriate heavenly glow, and the last guests finally trickled out of the hall, bidding rather drunk farewells to the newly instated Fire Lord. Zuko plastered a smile on his face, one that Iroh taught him would win over trust and camaraderie. It was early into the next morning, just after the darkest part of night. Mai had left with her parents and Ty Lee after her two week visit at the palace, and Zuko never felt so alone as he stood in the Throne Room, emptied and dark and lonely. He sunk into the (uncomfortable, hard) chair and massaged his temples with a thumb and forefinger, when footsteps broke what would have otherwise been a montage of hysteria, depression, and self-pity.

"What are you still doing up?"

He knew who it was before his eyes adjusted to her face, hidden in the shadows, silhouette melting into the shadows of the room. "Me? What're _you_ doing up? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Katara's sigh was so filled with trepidation that the former prince tensed in his seat. "I got hooked on this book, you see…" She revealed, and Zuko straightened up in his seat as she approached, holding out Iroh's memoir. "I couldn't help myself," she added a bit shyly, apologetic, "he always tells the best stories."

Zuko stared at the unseen leather cover. "Yeah," he said quietly, "He does."

The waterbender shifted, waiting for him to say something more, but he didn't. She handed him the book, pushing it into his hands, onto his lap. "I know you didn't get a chance to read it earlier," she said with a purpose, "I think you really should."

He grinned, recalling their earlier exchange, "I had a party to go to, remember?" Afterall, she was the one who had urged him to attend his the reception, though it wasn't until Mai physically dragged him from the study did the Fire Lord manage to make his reappearance.

"Since when are you the party-goer type?" Katara quipped, pursing her lips together.

Zuko quirked a brow, increasingly tired of her diligence. "Since I started hosting them."

The waterbender bristled, clearly struggling with some internal desire to cause him physical harm, and opened the manuscript to a page instead, a folded piece of paper serving as a book mark. "Read this," she commanded, all attempts at nonchalance abandoned.

"I'll read it in the morning," the Fire Lord answered, stiffly, glaring at the woman now. Who did she think she was, ordering him around? Zuko moved to stand, trying his best to maintain some form of civility, "I'm kind of tired and—"

Her hand found his shoulder and forced him down into the throne.

His golden eyes narrowed, "Katara—"

"_Now_."

The former prince growled, boldly dismissing her demand. "Are you seriously ordering me around?" He asked incredulously as he stood with perfected defiance, shutting the book and stalking across the room. The nerve some people had!

"Zuko—" Katara's voice cracked with the purest sorrow, but the Fire Lord continued to adamantly walk away. She broke down as he disappeared around the corner, footsteps fading, and she yelled after him so that her words echoed about the narrow corridor — "I think your uncle was _murdered!_"

The heavy _thud_ of Iroh's memoirs hitting the floor shook the portraits on the walls.

* * *

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**WEE. COMMENTS, CRITIQUES AND GENERAL FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY ENCOURAGED.  
**

it's been revised and edited and injected with subtle fore-shadowing.  
VERY subtle. so subtle that I'll probably forget about them

but now that Zutara Week is over and _Acquiescence_ is done  
i can return to this story that i adored when i began it

i sat down today and wrote down the entire back-story for iroh  
and the reason and such for his murder -dances-

as well as various other things i hadn't had time to figure out  
so i'm very excited to continue this story_!_

_now, for the questions:_

( **1** ) WHO KILLED IROH? WHY?  
( **2** ) What happened to Suki?  
( **3** ) What's the memoir title?_  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**MEMOIRS**

By Lady Flick**  
**

* * *

**chapter two**

* * *

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_The idea that someone out there might have killed him…  
The mere possibility that someone had a hand in his death…  
Was responsible for it…is blinding me, I know it.  
But blinding me from what? Lies? The mystery consumes me.  
A fire thriving on the desire for vengeance. A desire that I know Uncle would disprove…_

_But I'm not Uncle. No. He's dead._

_And someone out there will pay._

_._

_.

* * *

  
_

The time it took for Katara to race after her friend and pick up the book gave the Fire Lord just enough time to reclaim control of his body and break from the initial paralyzing shock. "What—" Zuko managed to choke out, voice rasping with little air. "What makes you think that?" He demanded, turning to face the waterbender standing before him, a consuming darkness in his tone, a darkness that had abandoned him so many years ago. "Who?" His gaze was intense; the eyes of a true leader, a Fire Lord. Eyes that commanded, eyes that struck fear - his father's eyes. "Who could have—"

Katara shook her head, the motion evident even in the shadows. "I don't know," she answered dryly, the book held limply in her hands. "I was just skipping through the pages and this one passage caught my attention." She flipped to the marked section and stared at the characters, unable to see them. "It mentioned something about a decision he made a long time ago. I don't know what it was about," Katara continued, straining her eyes to see the page, the words that she knew revealed nothing more than what she had already read - which was to little to go on. "He just keeps referring to it as _that decision_—"

"Let me see," the Fire Lord said, gesturing for her to hand the book to him. She did so without hesitation, much to his surprise. Usually the girl went on and on about how he had no right to order her around (which he did find some amusement in doing, if only for her predictable reactions - though it was the palace's décor that paid the price). Her steps were deliberate, wary; the sound of her feet moving across the marble floor echoed about narrow hall, an unnecessary reminder of just how empty it was.

Katara held the tome open as he conjured a small flame, no larger than the faint light of a candle. Their heads neared as the duo peered solemnly down at the page; the elegant scrawl almost undecipherable with its the extravagant strokes. Their breathing stilled to a single unified hum, barely flickering their only source of light. "There are some things I can't make out," the waterbender whispered irately, brows furrowing as she read over the script. "These characters are…"

"Ancient Fire Nation symbols," Zuko finished, frowning as he searched back through his memory, trying to put meaning to the brush strokes. '_Every detail matters,'_ his instructor had told him, '_from every scratch and ink drop and smear. The simplest err can lead the reader to misconstrue the meaning of even the most basic phrase.' _ When he was younger, he couldn't have cared less about ancient Fire Nation manuscripts - he sincerely regretted not paying the subject its due attention. Azula was the one who had memorized the ancient text. Azula was the one who could read the very first documentations of Fire Nation history, if she so wished. Somehow, Zuko felt incredibly inferior staring at the characters he just barely understood.

"Well?" Katara pressed, eyes lifting from the parchment to his face, elongated shadows creeping across his features. "What does it say?"

He scowled, meeting her curious eyes with a fixed glare. "I thought you said you already read this," the firebender snapped, his inferiority complex grabbing hold and submerging him in memories of the past. "You know what it says, or else you wouldn't have come to the conclusion that Uncle was killed."

"I understand the gist of what he's saying," she replied, pursing her lips together in contempt. "But not the details and definitely not enough to be able to tell you what it all means." Katara straightened up, moving away from him and causing the already faint flame to dangerously waver on the brink of darkness. "Besides, I'm not exactly schooled in the Ancient Fire Nation script, in case you hadn't noticed," she huffed.

Zuko rolled his eyes, but swallowed the apology in his throat. "Right," he said instead, the single word nothing more than a mutter, but otherwise opting for silence. Four years into their friendship, and one would think the pair had resolved whatever qualms they had with each other —

"Well, what does it say?" Katara persisted impatiently.

"Maybe I'll tell you if you ask nicely," the Fire Lord cracked.

— Apparently not.

He continued to stare at the characters that punctuated his weaknesses and Azula's strengths, hoping they would magically unwind before him and form words he understood. It had been a few years - three and seven months, to be precise - and though Azula was locked away in a prison cell, _banished,_ he could not free himself from his past. It was unchangeable, leaving him with permanent scars. The former prince frowned, understanding just the surface of his uncle's words.

"_...it seems the night has decided to swallow the day, and the earth rises to consume what remains. The Little She-Bear runs from the destruction of her home. I have urged her into hibernation, until the sun rises, there is dawn once more. _...what the hell does that mean?"

The waterbender arched a brow, sparing him a fleeting look, poignant in the fire light. "I didn't read that far."

Zuko bit back a retort that would surely warrant a water-whip and opted for a far more amiable response, "Well, how far_ did _you read?" His cynical tone thwarted the effort.

Katara let it slide, however, knowing that it was the firebender's anguish that shortened his fuse, "Up to the mention of Iroh having chosen his poison."

"_What? _What poison?" He gasped, eyes scrambling over the page.

"Here, it's...it's somewhere near the beginning," Katara offered, moving closer and lifting a part of the manuscript, finger shifting down the columns.

The firebender struggled with the memoir. "Wait, stop it, you'll tear the page—" he hissed as he tilted the book away from her sifting hand.

"—I can't see, just give it to here—" Katara huffed in disapproval. "Zuko, I'm trying to _help—_" she insisted, taking part of the tome into her own hands and urging him to let her see the page. "—why do you have to make this so difficult?"

"It's _my_ uncle's memoir—!"

Footsteps.

Zuko snapped the book shut just as a shadow crossed the threshold. The duo stood completely still, staring, with widened eyes, at the intruder who expelled an unassuming yawn. Katara squinted into the dark just as the small flame brightened, light stretching across the hall. Ruffled dark hair, tired eyes, and a disproportionately large mouth closing after the satisfying exhale. She blinked, "Sokka?"

The warrior rubbed a sleepy eye. "Rrm...grrmm...shhm?"

"_What?_"

Katara ignored the firebender's rhetorical inquiry. "Oh, nothing, nothing, Sokka – I was just helping him clean up a bit here," She told her half-asleep sibling who probably wouldn't even recall their conversation come morning. "You should go back to sleep, Sokka, it's late." And with her motherly suggestion, the Water Tribe male shuffled on back down the corridor where he came, muttering incoherent nonsense in his wake. Once the disruption faded, Zuko let out a sigh. Katara turned back to her counterpart, whose expression was both cynical and sardonic. "Sokka's been waking up in the middle of the night lately," she said unnecessarily, "Nightmares, I think."

"Oh."

The pair fell silent, eyes falling onto Iroh's memoir, the title of which remained unknown. It was held in Zuko's steady hand, the gold leaf gleaming in the light of the flame, and their minds worked, the mechanics turning, gadgets spinning. Neither was oblivious to the fact that the threat of a third party stumbling upon the secrets of the book struck apprehensive fear in them – but why should it? The memoir was far from a secret, it was carelessly forgotten in the library, afterall, open pages to anyone curious or bored enough to find it. Clearly it was far from classified information...so why the discretion? Why the hesitance? The held breaths? Katara shifted uneasily as the anxiety lifted, and cleared her throat. "So...I suppose I should be getting to bed," she murmured, wondering if perhaps, Zuko should decipher the manuscript on his own. Surely it was a highly personal matter and she shouldn't intrude on something so—

"Are you kidding?" Zuko retorted dubiously, "We've got what might be treason on our hands, and you want to go to sleep?"

Katara frowned, dully insulted with his apparent attitude. He may as well have called her _stupid._ Oh, she knew that tone all-too well. "What? No, of course not!" She countered at once, "I just meant—"

"Come on, we need to go to the library."

And he swept away before the waterbender could refuse.

The late morning was harsh and unforgiving; bright rays of sun scorching through the thin gauze covering the tall glass windows of the study. Katara scowled as brightness intruded her slumber and she buried her face into her hair, smelling musty pages and the remains of burned oil and something else that she couldn't put her finger on. Her mind refused to kick into gear, opting to leave her powerless to respond to the far away yelling; distorted sound and nothing more. She shifted her arm to cover her eyes, blocking the sunlight from piercing her lids with merciless brightness, and she changed her position, stretching out her leg and her torso in a vain search of a more comfortable position - but she ran out of table and shifted herself straight out of her chair, landing with an unceremonious _thud_ onto the hardwood floor. The fall jarred the girl out of her fatigue, and Katara found herself dazed and confused, staring up at the seat from which she so ungracefully tumbled. Soft snoring drew her attention to her fortnight companion, his own face buried amidst the wrinkled, torn, or drool-ridden pages of various books. Katara scowled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and picked herself up from the ground, massaging away the soreness from her posterior.

"Zuko," she muttered coarsely, voice rasping from lack of water, "Zuko."

The former prince regally snored.

She sighed, pushing against his shoulder with thin patience - lack of sleep destroyed her nurturing instincts. "_Zuko—"_

_"_Mmnn," was his eloquent reply, followed by a brushing away of her hand from his shoulder and a deliberate turning away from her nagging voice and morning breath.

"_Zuko_—_!_" She tried again, shoving him this time, perhaps a bit too hard, seeing as the Fire Lord flailed out his arms as he lost balance, his quick and ungraceful morning reflexes managing to keep him in his seat, hands clasping along the table's edge. Katara met his simmering glare with one of her own. "We fell asleep," the waterbender said flatly, dark circles under her eyes. Zuko blinked once, twice, the information processing in his brain. He said nothing. "I think they're looking for us," she added, the faint voices in the background growing louder and more distinct. "I have no idea what time it is or—"

Zuko simply stood, raking a hand through his hair that stuck up on one side and was flattened on the other, before pressing his wrists into his eyes to remove any sign of fatigue. "What time is it," he muttered, more to himself than Katara.

"I just told you," the girl answered impatiently, "I don't know."

He didn't seem to hear her, or else ignored her reply. Instead, the Fire Lord flattened out the wrinkles in his robes and smudged away the dried strings of saliva dotting the corners of his lips. Without so much as a word, he exited the library, not noticing the gaping waterbender he left behind. Zuko scowled as he trudged down the hall, sleep stolen from him so fully that he couldn't seem to walk straight. His temples throbbed with each step, every distant yell, and he paused, reaching out a hand against the wall for support. He had stayed up much longer than Katara - he remembered the exact moment she fell asleep. They were trying to translate the passage she read earlier, the one that hinted at a murder rather than natural death. The words echoed in his mind, over and over, a broken record to remain unfixed. Perhaps forever.

_The betrayal was done so many years ago; The Little She-Bear has retreated into her unfamiliar den, a prison of rock, with no sign of spring. It is with a heavy heart that I admit I have removed her from her cave; negligent on my part to assume that only I will bear the consequences. I had chosen my poison with the decision made, and would willingly consume the hemp. If only I realized that such a decision would doom not only I, but the unknowing Prince, as well. Apologies a thousand times over, Prince Zuko - you may never come to know the treachery I have mistakenly woven into your destiny, and the poison that comes to finish what was begun so many years ago may not end with me. But I give my word as the Dragon of the West, that I will do what I can to prepare for he who bears the hemp—_

"Zuko-!"

He cringed at the sound of her voice, expecting a tirade for some reason or another.

"Are you alright?"

Sympathy, concern, uncertainty - not what he had in mind.

The Fire Lord glanced back to see Katara peering down at him. He managed to nod before straightening up, her hold on him surprisingly strong. "Yeah," he answered gratefully, "I'm fine." He could see that she was far from convinced, and shrugged away from her grasp. "Really," Zuko insisted, bleary-eyed, coarse-throat and all. "I am."

Katara scoffed, "Right. And I'm _La_." Her sarcasm didn't do much to coerce a reaction from Zuko, who only shook his head, resulting in a stifled groan and the squinting of his eyes as he pressed the bridge of his nose to relieve the pain.

It was then that Katara gasped and suddenly, her hands were on him, sifting through his robes, and Zuko was too startled to do much more than protest in surprise. "Alright, where is it?" She demanded harshly, quick hands moving from one pocket to the next.

"Where's _what?_" Zuko snapped, flushing a blooming scarlet as her hands swiftly grazed over his form,

"What in Agni do you think you're doing-?"

"Aha!" The waterbender exclaimed as she withdrew a flask from his inside pocket.

The former prince's eyes widened. Crap.

She waved the bottle in his face, eyes accusing. "I thought I smelled fire whiskey back there!"

"Katara, I can explain-" Zuko began, but she only raised a hand.

"Save it," she retorted, wagging a reprimanding finger at the bewildered and slightly hung over Fire Lord, "There's no explanation for this! Oh, someone's going to hear about this!"

"I'm the _Fire Lord!_" Zuko reasoned as she tucked the flask away and marched off, muttering about how he would be in so much trouble. "Who's going to lecture _me_?" Even so, he followed after her much in the manner of a guilty child.

"Fire whiskey, Zuko?"

"The Fire Lord! Drowning his sorrows in alcohol!"

"What does this say of the Fire Nation?"

"Such weakness!"

"—Shameful—"

"_What would your uncle say?_"

Zuko winced at the last one.

"You are barely of age—"

"—Fire Lord or not—"

"This is hardly conduct you should be—"

"—Taking part in!"

And yada, yada, yada, et cetera, et cetera. Zuko sighed. He really _had_ to challenge Katara to find someone who would dare lecture him, didn't he? - how could he have forgotten his former keepers, Li and Lo? The most annoying twins to ever inhabit the earth. Their voices were screeching, old and piercing like knives on glass. Far worse than the wails of even the loudest screaming howlerbat. He sat in his room - the bed much too large for one, the decorations gaudy and overbearing. The family tapestries were taken down from the walls, stashed somewhere below ground. Any sign of the previous Fire Lord's reign was erased from the chambers, any sign save for the present lord himself, the boy who bore all the memories that would keep Fire Lord Ozai's sinister ideals alive.

"—it is your responsibility to restore the honor of the Fire Nation—"

"—in a time of crisis such actions are unacceptable—"

It had taken nearly four years adjusting to the bedroom at all, but he had his uncle's encouragement and assurance to help - now he was left with only his own will and conscience. He didn't think he was strong enough to face living in his father's room...

"—Fire Lord Zuko, are you listening?"

"Fire Lord Zuko!"

Could he do it? Could he endure without his uncle?

"Zuko!"

Somehow, he had his doubts—

"_Are you even listening?_"

He flinched at the shrieking and glared at the duo who should really just roll over and die. "_Yes!_"

The twins spotted the lie at once and only shook their heads, grumbling about how _Azula_ would never need such lecturing.

Zuko stalked over to the door as they left, slamming it at their heels.

_Azula, Azula, Azula_.

Even after her banishing spree, after her horrible treatment of their nannies, even rotting in prison, she was held in higher regard.

Knock, knock.

"Go away," Zuko growled, staring angrily at the door.

"It's me," called _her_ voice from the other side.

He only folded his arms across his chest. "Go away," he staunchly repeated.

The door swung open and Katara met his glare with a most exasperated expression. "Oh, stop being so childish," she berated, prodding him in the chest. "You shouldn't have resorted to alcohol in the first place." She ignored the former prince's act of irately massaging where she had so forcefully poked, and held up a book, brow arching as she gestured towards it. "Did you forget we had some translating to do?"

"I've translated enough," Zuko answered, avoiding her gaze.

"What are you talking about?" The waterbender pressed, "We haven't even—"

"Do you want to know why I had fire whiskey last night?" He interjected heatedly, "Because...because I actually started reading the memoir, not looking for ancient Fire Nation text. I started reading it, and started remembering and regretting. We've been through so much together, Uncle and I...and it's all in there, Katara - all of it. Down to every last detail!" He blinked away his misted vision before continuing. "I'm done translating it. Uncle died - there's no changing that."

"Zuko..."

"Hey!"

The benders jumped at the cheerful voice and spun to see the Avatar poke his head in the doorway.

Katara offered him an endearing smile. "Yes, Aang?"

"What're you two doing in here? We're all going out to Ember Island! Come on!"

She nodded, glancing nervously back at the Fire Lord. "Yeah, I was just telling Zuko about it."

"So are you coming, Zuko?" Aang queried, eyes bright and unassuming. So innocent despite everything he'd been through - how did he maintain that sense of insouciance? How could he be so optimistic about everything? It wasn't fair. Aang had gone through so much - losing his entire family, the monks, his home, his lifetime. Struggling with mastering the elements, staying alive, dealing with the potential end of the world. And yet he was as childish and carefree as ever. And there was Zuko...life cracked so unimaginably that all images could only be seen through distorted vision.

Hesitance, and then, "Aang, I don't think Zuko wants to—"

The book was stolen from her hands in a most careless gesture, followed by his voice, low and certain,

"Yeah. I'm coming."

* * *

.

.

* * *

**I CAN HAS MOAR FEEDBACKZ?**

The process of this revision is taking much longer than I anticipated.  
I'm really analyzing every paragraph, every sentence  
and changing what I can to improve the overall writing

I've also lost the third chapter that was pre-written  
so from this point on everything will be new!

_now for the questions:_

( **1** ) Who is the _Litte She-Bear_?  
( **2** ) What does Iroh's passage mean?  
( **3** ) What are Sokka's nightmares about?  
( **4** ) What awaits them on Ember Island?


End file.
